


home for me is where you are

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Series: all that glitters is not gold [10]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stargazing, That's all there is, it's just fluff, literally the whole thing is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: mitch has missed this. he's missed this happiness.they're finally happy.





	home for me is where you are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxalways_and_foreverxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxalways_and_foreverxx/gifts).



> HOLY FUCKING SHIT  
> IT'S i10 ALL YALL THOUGHT I WAS NEVER GONNA GET THIS DONE BUT HEY LOOK AT ME GO  
> HOOOOOOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN WHAT, TEN MONTHS (to the day) SINCE I POSTED i1 DEAR LORD WHAT A WILD RIDE  
> OKAY  
> LONGER NOTES AT THE END BUT SHOUTOUT TO THE ICELAND GC: SOPHIE MORGAN SABRYNA CAT SARAH KARINNA JAS CATY I LOVE EACH OF YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOD 
> 
> now go read

It’s been one month since Iceland. Exactly one month, to the day, that they boarded a plane and flew out to what would end up as the biggest turning point in their lives that neither of them ever saw coming.

Mitch is wrapped in Scott’s arms, and Scott’s sleeping quietly behind him. It’s sometime past midnight, but Mitch can’t sleep. It’s not because he’s upset, no, he’s right where he wants to be. It’s just that he has a lot to think about. Scott, mainly, but also snow and stars and Iceland, and the tears, _god_ , the tears.

He’s okay now, content. They’ve been working on it together, chipping away slowly at the miscommunication and the mistrust and just generally trying to start fresh, relearning how to love and how to be loved.

“Mitchy?” Scott whispers, breath tickling Mitch’s neck, and Mitch smiles.

“Yeah?” He whispers back, wriggling a little closer.

“Why’re you up?”

Mitch turns over so he’s face to face with Scott. “Can’t sleep.”

“Something bothering you?” Scott’s eyes crack open, the blue that Mitch loves so much reduced to a dark, dark navy, barely distinguishable with the help of the sliver of moonlight that leaks through their blinds.

“No, just thinking. About us and how much we’ve been through,” Mitch whispers, watching as Scott smiles. He loves Scott’s sleepy smiles. They’re less blinding, a little softer and sweeter, and Mitch has missed them.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we.” Scott’s a little more awake now, and Mitch smiles as Scott’s eyes open fully and fix on Mitch’s gaze.

They lay like that for a moment, nothing spoken but everything understood for just a moment. They’re going to be okay, they’re going to be here for each other, it’s going to work.

“We have,” Mitch says a beat too late but somehow it just fits. Scott pulls him in a little closer.

“I have a surprise planned for tomorrow,” he whispers into the space between them, and Mitch feels a little sprinkle of anxiety flutter in his tummy, but Scott’s next words calm him right back down. “We’re gonna go stargazing, if you want?”

Mitch smiles. “Yeah. That sounds fun, but only if we can cuddle. Can we cuddle?”

“Course, Mitchy, of course we can cuddle.” The crinkles at the corners of Scott’s eyes make an appearance, and Mitch falls in love all over again.

“Good,” Mitch says, tucking himself a little closer to Scott.

“Now go to sleep, princess, I love you,” Scott says, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. Mitch shivers and kisses what he can reach without too much effort- Scott’s bare shoulder.

“I love you too.”

“Night, lovely.”

“G’night, Scotty.”

They fall asleep within moments of each other, breaths synching after a few minutes, and the house is quiet and still and the stars glimmer daintily above.

-

When they wake up, the sun is bright through the blinds, warming up the room. Mitch opens his eyes to Scott watching him, and he smiles.

“Don’t be creepy, Scott,” Mitch teases, and Scott ducks his head with a little laugh.

“’m not. Was just admiring your face,” he admits, and Mitch blushes. Scott’s been more vocal about these little compliments lately, and Mitch still isn’t used to it.

“Coffee?” Scott offers after a comfortable, quiet moment.

Mitch nods soundlessly, and they get out of bed. Scott doesn’t insist on holding Mitch’s hand anymore, not like the first two weeks, but he sticks close to Mitch as they get their coffee and sit on the couch again, a motion they’ve been repeating almost every morning.

They’ve decided that they’re going to take at least ten minutes every morning to sit and talk about anything they need to get off their chests. No topic or happening is off-limits.

There’ve been some pretty heavy things that Mitch has aired this past month, a lot about what he’s been through in Iceland and after, and Scott’s been apologizing a lot. Mitch keeps reminding him that he doesn’t need to, that it’s okay, but he does it anyways.

“So. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Scott says, and Mitch purses his lips.

“Shoot.”

“When I came back, I read that poem in your diary.” Well, that’s not as bad as Mitch had been thinking. It’s actually a little better. “And I’m sorry. I know your diary is private. I didn’t mean to read, but it was lying open on the bed and it just… happened.”

“Scotty, it’s okay. I meant to show it to you eventually, and it just happened sooner than I thought it would. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

Mitch can see the relief clear on Scott’s face.

“Good. I’m… glad,” Scott says, and Mitch smiles.

“Hold me, Scotty?” Mitch asks after a moment. “I miss you.”

“We just got out of bed,” Scott teases, but there’s a little happy glint in his eyes and he’s already moving to set down his coffee cup.

“I know, but I miss you.”

Scott launches himself across the couch, landing half on Mitch with a little _umph_ , and Mitch can’t help the giggle that bubbles up, bursting out of him and making Scott laugh too. They stay like that, holding each other and giggling like children. Mitch finally feels warm and whole, and it’s such a nice feeling that he never wants to let go of.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, ending up with him sprawled on Scott, his head resting on Scott’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady as they both doze on and off for something like an hour or two.

It’s nice. Mitch misses this. A lot. He doesn’t even realize how much until he starts thinking about just how long he _hasn’t_ had this, had the cuddles and the kisses and the talking and the phenomenon where he feels warm around Scott instead of hollow and a little sad. It feels like it’s been years instead of months. Maybe it _has_ been years. After all, hasn’t he been in love with Scott since long before their very first kiss?

“Mitchyyyy, don’t cry,” Scott whispers from somewhere above where Mitch’s head is on his chest.

Mitch startles a little when he reaches up and feels wet little tear tracks on his face, running down to soak a patch in Scott’s shirt.

“’s not bad tears.”

Scott cups his hand gently on Mitch’s cheek and tilts his head up so Mitch is looking straight into his eyes. They’re clear and blue and so, so soft and fond and loving and it makes Mitch’s heart thud like he’s sixteen and in love again. He can’t help the tears that escape at that thought.

“I’m here, baby, don’t cry, I love you,” Scott murmurs, thumb gently stroking over Mitch’s cheekbone, wiping away the tears, and Mitch sniffles.

“I love you, Scott, so much.”

“I love you more.”

Mitch grins and taps a fingertip on Scott’s nose. “That’s impossible, silly.”

“You’re wrong,” Scott teases before his stomach grumbles too close to Mitch’s face for comfort.

“Holy crap, Scott, you need food,” Mitch pokes at Scott’s stomach and Scott swats half-heartedly at him.

“Let’s go shopping, then, there’s no food in the house and we need stuff for tonight anyways.”

It takes them a few more minutes to actually get off the couch, both reluctant to leave their comfy snuggle positions, but it happens, eventually, after Scott’s tummy makes its displeasure known again.

Their grocery store adventure is a little bit of a wild ride, with Scott grabbing anything and everything from the shelves. By the end, Mitch is equal parts nostalgic and frustrated, remembering the times he and Scott used to do the same to their poor mothers but also suddenly realizing how much they had to put up with.

They end up with all they need for tonight, but thanks to Scott, they also have another case of Redbull, some breakfast sausage, _more_ Keurig cup things, several boxes of gluten-free mac and cheese, a random block of Belgian chocolate, two baguettes, a gallon of orange-mango juice, exactly four pink lady apples, some off-brand cereal, two rotisserie chickens they’re going to have to freeze for later, and _13 cans of condensed milk._ Mitch doesn’t even know how Scott managed to get them thirteen cans of condensed milk. He doesn’t even drink condensed milk- Scott’s the one who uses it in coffee every so often, but not enough to warrant _thirteen cans._ When he asks why, he gets a Scott burying his face in his shoulder and a mumbled “zombies” and Mitch decides it’s not worth asking.

When they get home, Scott grabs the things they’ll need for dinner tonight, and Mitch busies himself putting the rest away before he pulls himself up to sit on the counter and watch Scott.

“Scott, do you wanna know why I love you?” Mitch asks. It’s a spur of the moment thing, with the sunshine streaming in through the windows and the whole house bathed in soft, golden light.

Scott pauses in the middle of putting a can of condensed milk in the cabinet. “Okay, if you let me say why I love you after.”

Mitch smiles. “Alright. But let me go first. Scott Richard Hoying, I love you because you have the warmest heart.”

“How about we alternate?” Scott cuts in, and Mitch sighs. “Okay, fine, you sap.”

“I love you, Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi, because you’ve shown me what it means to be unapologetically me.”

“I love you, Scott, because you push me to pursue my dreams and inspire me every day when you do so yourself.”

“I love you, Mitch, because you’re so sweet and you always put your friends first.”

“I love you, Scotty, because you ground me when I’m floating.”

“I love you, Mitchy, because you’ve helped me come out of my shell to become the person I want to be.”

Then there’s a moment of silence, and there are so many words exchanged in that silence it’d scare any outsider who happened to see it.

_Thank you for not leaving._

_Thank you for waiting._

_Thank you._

And there’s more than just that, but those are the loudest.

_Thank you._

And they know exactly what they’re apologizing, forgiving, and thanking for, but they’re not going to talk about it now. They’ve talked about it. A lot. Because that’s how healthy relationships work. They talk things out. Losing someone over miscommunication is one of the biggest mistakes they could ever make. They’re determined not to let that happen, again.

Scott breaks the moment with a little laugh. Mitch slides off the counter and steps into Scott’s arms, tucking his face into Scott’s neck.

“I love you,” Scott mumbles into his hair, and Mitch smiles.

“I love you, too.”

“Now let me make our food, would you?” Scott teases gently after a minute.

Mitch shakes his head. “No. ‘s warm.”

“Put a jacket on, silly,” Scott murmurs with a little laugh. “Here, just take mine.”

Mitch pulls back a little as Scott reaches over to the counter and grabs his sweater. Mitch takes it and steps back to wriggle into it, then latches himself back onto Scott before Scott has a chance to get away.

“Noooo, Mitchy, we’re not gonna have food for tonight if you don’t let me make it,” Scott laughs, half-trying to pull away. Mitch isn’t about to let him, because he wants cuddles and he wants them now.

“Let me love youuuuu.”

Scott starts walking towards the fridge, and Mitch hastily rearranges himself so he’s clinging to Scott’s back like some kind of demented opossum baby. It takes him a few stumbling steps before he can line his strides up with Scott’s, and Scott’s full-on laughing at this point as he takes a container out of the fridge.

“Oh my _god_ , Mitch, why are you like this?” Scott’s shoulders are shaking and Mitch is starting to laugh, too, and it’s just all dissolving into a giggly pile of boy and cold cuts.

Mitch lets go of Scott, and Scott turns and faces him. The look on his face is a mix between suppressed laughter and mock annoyance, and Mitch considers not laughing, he really does, but in the end it’s too much and he does that silent laugh that hurts his sides a bit and makes him look like a fucking seal but it’s worth it when Scott mirrors him. The cold cuts, luckily, make it to the counter before Scott’s laughing so hard he’s folded over himself. Mitch can’t help the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he watches Scott stick his fist in his mouth to try and stop laughing, but it isn’t really working.

It’s probably because Mitch manages to choke out a “so that’s how you train your gag reflex,” and Scott loses it all over again.

At this point, Mitch is crouching on the floor nursing his sides and still laughing but not as hard, but poor Scott is literally curled in a ball in front of him, his face so red Mitch is concerned he’s not getting enough oxygen.

“Scott, _breathe_ , oh my god,” Mitch says between little laughing aftershocks. “Don’t asphyxiate on the floor, dear god.”

Scott seems to manage to pull himself together with a few big gulps of air, scrubbing at his face with both fists. “Don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in ages.”

Mitch smiles so big his cheeks hurt, because he hasn’t, either. This is the first time they’ve really started going back to the things they used to do way back when everything was simpler and easier. It’s been too long. Mitch is so glad things are taking an upward turn. They’ve been, for sure, over the past month, but this is a baby milestone for them, and it’s precious to Mitch.

They manage to compose themselves enough to make sandwiches and salad and apples and pack it all up in a paper bag that they leave by the door.

It takes them another half an hour to find a suitable blanket, fifteen minutes to clean it off to an acceptable level, and another fifteen arguing over bringing wine glasses for the wine. Mitch argues that they’ll break, it’s easier to just drink out of plastic cups, and Scott insists that actual glasses are part of the experience. After a two-minute standoff where they both struggle so hard against laughing it would have looked stupid to an outsider, they decide that it’s probably not smart to bring actual breakable shit given how giggly and clumsy they’ve been all day. Mitch tucks a stack of plastic cups and napkins into the paper bag, and then they’re basically all packed in terms of food and comfort.

It takes Mitch maybe ten minutes to choose a pair of soft, worn skinnies and one of Scott’s stolen sweaters as his outfit for the night, and he smiles when Scott appears in his room clad in something similar—black jeans that hug his legs and his ass under what Mitch knows Scott knows is Mitch’s favorite sweater of his. It’s the dertbag one, the one that basically the entire fandom is in love with. It’s one of Mitch’s favorites to steal, too, so he’s amused Scott’s still in possession of it.

Yeah, okay, they’re going on a stargazing picnic date, they didn’t _have_ to pick outfits, but fuck it why not. Mitch laughs when he thinks of what their friends would’ve said had they known.

“Something funny?” Scott asks, eyes soft and fond from where he’s leaning against his doorframe.

Mitch shakes his head. “Just imagining our friends’ reactions to us actually taking time to pick outfits for a stargazing picnic date.”

Scott snorts. “Gotta have outfits, though, and they need to be warm but practical and comfortable, it’s an art.”

“See, you get it. This is why we’re together.”

“Right, that’s the only reason,” Scott deadpans, but Mitch picks up the little undertone of worry.

“I’m kidding, Scotty, I love you so much. For so many reasons. For how pretty your eyes are. For how pretty _you_ are. For how beautiful your soul is.”

“That’s gay,” Scott murmurs, and Mitch wants to strangle him. But like. Affectionately. That’s kinky. Goddamnit.

“Well, aren’t we both, so deal with it, asshole. I compliment your soul and this is how you repay me? By telling me the obvious truth?”

Scott rolls his eyes so hard Mitch can practically feel it on a visceral level.

“Well, I love you because your eyes change color. They’re deep and warm and dark when we’re inside but the moment we step outside in the sun, they’re this gorgeous honey color and sometimes the air will literally leave my body when I look at you and think about how lucky I am to be here, next to you as your best friend,” Scott pauses, “and boyfriend,” he finishes after a moment, small smile gracing his lips.

Mitch mirrors it but hides his face with his sweater paws. He’s never gotten used to such grand compliments, and they make him blush, and that makes Scott laugh and then try to compliment him more and it just becomes a whole lot of giggling and teasing from both of them, and Mitch really wants to think this is coming back to normal. He really hopes it is.

They spend the next couple of hours sharing lazy kisses and cuddling and dozing in Scott’s bed—well. At this point it’s _their_ bed, because Mitch hasn’t slept in his own bed since they worked things out. And really, Mitch starts to think it might be worth just staying in and watching a movie instead of going out in the nippy cold.

Scott insists, though, when he suggests it, that they should go, and Mitch has never been able to stand firm against Scott’s patented puppy eyes. He concedes, and Scott pumps his fist in victory. Mitch slaps him gently and Scott pouts and they laugh and kiss some more.

By the time the sun’s started going down, they’re both just a hint restless, so they get the car packed up and get going. Scott’s taking them to a popular stargazing spot about half an hour away that should be pretty free of people given how chilly it is. There’s a little scuffle about who gets to choose the music, but it comes to a head pretty quickly.

“…driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Scott mutters under his breath, and Mitch squawks out a surprised laugh.

“Did you just… _did you just quote Supernatural at me_? Holy fuck, Scott, I know you’re passionate about Bey but I didn’t think you’d memorize a quote _just_ for that.”

Scott shrugs, lips pressed together in what Mitch recognizes as an attempt to stop laughing.

“Oh my god,” Mitch says as a thought occurs to him, “Have you been saving that ever since we binged that two years ago?”

The grin that breaks onto Scott’s face is the only answer Mitch needs.

“Talk about dedication. I guess you can pick the music on the way there, then, as long as I get my choice on the way back.”

“Of course,” Scott says, mock-offended tone sneaking in and making Mitch smile. He’s missed this.

They arrive at the park with no further incident and set up at the top of the hill in the middle. It’s quiet out here, so different than the hustle and bustle of LA and even of their little neighborhood, which is already pretty secluded as it is. Mitch can hear crickets chirping and maybe even an owl in the distance, and it’s so nice to breathe in clean, fresh air.

He says as much to Scott, who smiles, puts down the bag of cutlery, and pulls Mitch into his arms.

“Love you,” Scott murmurs.

“Love you, too,” Mitch says back, laying his head against Scott’s chest, over his heart. It’s reminiscent of one time back in Iceland in the middle of a field. Mitch tries not to think about it.

They stay like that for a minute until Mitch sneezes, and Scott laughs.

“Cold?”

“Fuck you,” Mitch replies out of habit, and Scott ruffles his hair.

“Not out here, you kinky bastard.” Scott says, but he wriggles his eyebrows and Mitch snorts, turning to get the food from the trunk of the car. They migrate to the blankets they’ve laid out, and eat quickly, talking and laughing over sandwiches and wine.

By the time it’s fully dark and they’ve finished putting their dinner away, Mitch is just to the side of pleasantly-buzzed, although he’s really only had a couple of glasses worth of wine. Maybe it’s from being around Scott. Dopamine or some shit like that. Scott’s driving, but he’s let himself have two glasses. He’s big, it’ll be fine. Mitch smiles to himself. He feels warm, just the slightest bit scatter-brained but that’s okay. Scott will take care of him.

Speaking of. Scott’s lying on his back on the blanket, another one draped over him, and Mitch tucks himself against Scott’s side, resting his head on Scott’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat. The slow, rhythmic beat is relaxing and starts to lull Mitch to sleep. Scott turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head, and Mitch smiles sleepily at him.

“Ever wonder how we got so lucky? Not everyone works out the way we did,” Scott says, arm coming up and wrapping around Mitch, pulling him closer.

Mitch shrugs a little. “Fate, I guess. Persistence, too. I’m happy, though. Missed this. Missed you.”

Scott tilts Mitch’s chin up gently, presses their foreheads together.

“Missed you, too. I love you to the moon and back, Mitchy.”

“I love you, my sunshine.”

 

- _fin._

**Author's Note:**

> okay oh my god  
> what a journey yall  
> um
> 
> i really don't feel like i have sufficient words for the journey this has taken me on both as a person and as a writer. sounds cliche, i know. but for real, it really has. some of this is my proudest work. iceland is my baby. will always be my baby. i can't believe how much i've grown since i first read cat's iceland, and i can't believe it's come this far. i've made some of my very best friends through this series. iceland gc, i love each and every one of you to the very ends of the universe and back. you've been some of the best support i've ever had in my life, and i can't thank any of you enough for how much you've blessed and enriched my life just by being around and talking to me and each other and wow i'm tearing up i've never cried writing a note at any of my own fic before but i just love you all so much. thank you for listening to me rant and ramble. thank you for not shitting on my 1am spirals and my timelines and my random thoughts and thank you for just being you. i love you.
> 
> i've grown as a writer. i've found my style, or at least the basis of my style. i've found my little niche of genres i love. i've found a little of myself along the way, if i really think about it. i've discovered so much new music and made so many new friends and found so many new trains of thought and inspiration and i swear i'm a literal cliche but this series has had a hand in shaping who i am as a person and how i see the world and it's such a weird thought that something i wrote in response to something i read could have had such a big impact on me. if you'd had asked me when i first wrote i1 if i thought i would've come so far, i would've said no. would've brushed it off. how wrong i was. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who's read this, who's stuck with me through all of what i've thrown at iceland scomiche, and i sincerely hope this little coda makes up for all of the tears i've caused. i love each and every one of you so much. i recognize your usernames and your nicknames if you don't have an account and it made me so, so happy to see the response to each installment of pain and suffering lmao
> 
> god i thought i was never going to finish this but i've been working at it, slowly but surely. thank you for being patient and for encouraging me every step of the way. 
> 
> and finally, thank you, cat, for writing i0, the original iceland. for inspiring me to write. for everything you've given me advice on. for being patient with me and my rants. thank you for supporting me through thick and thin, and i love you so, so much. this is my gift to you, these ten chapters of one story that's changed my life forever. i love you. 
> 
> so for the last time in this verse, leave a comment or kudos if you cried. whether that's at the fic or the note. thank you from the bottom of my heart for every comment or kudos you've left. 
> 
> i love you all, i really do.
> 
> -joce


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